Chasing Cars
by clam theif
Summary: We'll do it all. Everything. On our own. We don't need anything or anyone. If I lay here. If I just lay here...? Would you lie with me, and just forget the world? MattxMello STOP PUTTING THIS ON ALERTS! THIS FANFIC IS COMPLETE!
1. If I lay here

**This is purely dedicated to my Matt. She's just endured a family tragedy, and my heart goes out to her, even more than it ever has in the past. I love her deeply. Thanks to Mahri Lellan for being the inspiration to this, as well as Chasing Cars, a Snow Patrol song. It's a somewhat song fic for a club on DeviantArt which is holding a contest. If it's a bit too much like Hung on Powerlines, sorry, it's just a songfic. Anyways enjoy this.**

**I love you, Matt. Seriously. This one's for you.**

"Mello?" I say, peering into his room. It's empty…Empty here meaning, lacking him. Papers, clothes and the like are strewn about the room in a mad, chaotic frenzy. "Mello?" I say again, stepping into the room.

I step out.

My heart stops.

I bolt from the room, I need to find Near.

"Near!" I scream, running through the halls. Other kids are looking from their bedrooms and from the recreational room. I never speak much, and everyone knows…if me or Near are screaming…

Something's wrong.

Other students begin to file out of their rooms after me. My screaming has intrigued them.

I need to find Near.

Where is he?

"NEAR!" I scream again, turning to the doors leading outside. I can't see anything.

It's dark out.

"NEAR!" I scream again, peering into the dark library. Other students have collected behind me. They know something's wrong.

In the dark, fire lit room, is a white dot near the fireplace. He's playing with one of his puzzles. "Near, where is he?" I ask, approaching him.

There's a massive, Old English M on his puzzle.

"He left." Near says softly, not looking up at me. "You can still catch up with him." He adds. Near sighes. "L…he…he's…" He has to say nothing else.

My heart is still dead.

He can't have…

"Which exit?" I ask quickly.

Near raises his hand, and points to the doors I had just passed. I say nothing. Neither does he. We both know what's happening.

I push past the crowd of other orphans.

They don't matter to me right now.

I burst through the doors.

It's pouring. It's dark out.

I'm barefoot.

It's November, and I'm freezing already.

The rain beats down on me, soaking me to the skin.

My hair flattens to my face.

"MELLO!" I scream loudly into the blackness, beginning to run across the lawn of Wammy House.

"MELLO!" I scream again, raising my hands to my mouth to project my voice. "WHERE ARE YOU?" I'm shaking and I feel the texture of ground beneath me change.

My only light comes from behind me. The doors are still open and everyone is watching me. Watching me as I break down, crying and pleading for Mello.

They don't come to help me.

They all know how independent Mello and I are.

But how could he leave me like this?

The light begins to diminish.

I glance back.

I see the silhouette of Roger shutting the door, bringing the children back inside.

And I'm alone.

In the dark cold of night.

"MELLO!" I scream again, stopping in the middle of the driveway. "PLEASE! DON'T GO WITHOUT ME!"

I hear a faint sound in the distance…

"matt?" I hear. It's soft, almost inaudible from the rain. "is that you?"

"YES MELLO!" I shout loudly, beginning to run in the direction of my friend's voice.

"stop running idiot!" he calls back. "i'm going alone!"

"NO YOU'RE NOT!" I reply in a loud holler.

I begin to run again. I won't lose Mello.

I see a blip of gold in the distance.

It's him.

He can tell it's me.

He starts to run.

"DON'T GO!" I scream. "NOT WITHOUT ME!"

I begin to run faster.

I have sneakers in the backpack I'm wearing.

I knew Mello was leaving.

But I wanted to go with him.

Mello tries running more, but the golden dot in the distance lowers.

He falls to the ground and begins to say words that shouldn't come out of a fourteen year old kid's mouth.

"Idiot." I say, coming up behind him. "You honestly thought you'd leave me behind?"

Mello's face down in the dirt, his face is soaked. His clothes are ruined.

But I won't leave him.

"_We'll do it all_." I say to him, offering him a hand. "_Everything_." Mello stares at it. "_On our own._" He reaches up for my hand. "_We don't need anything_. _Or anyone_."

He grasps my hand tightly, a smile appearing on his face.

"On our own…" he says.

I don't think anyone remembers me…

M2…

Joining Mello.

Why should they?

I'm just number three.

---

Mello's lying in his bed, his face is covered in bandages and his flesh is hot to the touch. Whether it's the burns or the fever, it doesn't matter. I need to keep him cool.

"Matt…" he says to me, glancing at me from his eye that remained free of burns. "What ever happened…" he heaves in a breath. There's more ash in his lungs from the explosion than there ever will be from my smoking. "To us…on our own?"

I shake my head, contradicting him by taking a drag of a Newport cigarette. The smoke exits my nostrils and floats around the room.

"Fuckin' hypocrite." I sneer. "You ditched me."

"No I didn't," Mello says. He's shocked. "We got lost, remember?"

I shake my head. Obviously, no.

"We were in LA?" he asks. I shake my head. "And I was freaking out. I started calling your real name to try and find you."

"Don't remember." I snort, placing a plastic ice pack over Mello's bandages.

"Some guy offered to help me." Mello whispers softly. "It was Rod." I don't know who Rod is, I think it's some guy from the mafia. "He said he'd bring me to meet some people to help find you." Mello makes a discomforting grunt. "Pretty stupid thing to do for L's successor, huh?" Mello shakes his head. "I shouldn't have trusted them…They…they never helped me."

"I don't believe you." I grumbled. "I think you joined the mafia on your own, dumb ass."

We've changed a lot.

I secretly do believe him.

A part of him, at least.

"I was sixteen, Matt…" he sighs, leaning back on the bed, shifting on the icy towel I placed behind him. "That's something Wammy House never taught us…" We're both silent for a moment. "They never taught us…who we really _can_ trust."

I glance at Mello.

He looks terrible.

Regardless of his criminal record.

I feel like I should take him to the hospital.

But I'm respecting him.

I start to change the subject. "If I don't see some improvement in your condition…" I say. "Like, within the week…" I take another drag. "I'm bringing you to the hospital."

"Matt." Mello says sternly. "I'll go to prison."

I shrug. "You can use my name." I dig around in my pocket, and pull out a fake ID.

It's my real name, but Mello's picture.

It's not really him. But close enough.

It's an intensely photoshopped image I had Linda do for me.

I talk to her still now and then.

She was my first girlfriend after all.

"Who did it?" Mello asks, examining it. "It's…My nose is wrong."

"Linda." I say. Mello's eyes widen. "She's been called on to do a lot of work lately. She wanted to know how you were."

"What'd you say?" Mello asks, handing the card back.

"I told her that you were extra crispy with a side of pancakes."

I'm a sarcastic bastard.

Mello laughs. He hasn't laughed like this in a long time.

He pats the bed.

"_If I lay here…_" he asks. "_If I just lay here…Would you lie with me? And just forget the world_?"

It'd be nice.

I miss being a kid with him.

I sit down on the bed with him, and smile. I shift around and find myself lying down on the bed, staring at him.

"I sometimes wish I hadn't left." He says dreamily.

I quirk an eyebrow, rolling on to my side.

"I like things how they are." I admit. "With me being a chronic smoker and drinker, and you deep fried…" I smile gently. "I wouldn't know you as well."

I force all my weight on to my elbows and lean over to look at Mello. He's a mess. A horrible, horrible mess.

But I like him like this.

I'm careful and reach forward and brush some of the blonde from his face.

"I like things as they are, Mihael." I say, using his real name.

I know it's not from the burn.

But his cheeks redden.

"I like _you_ as you are." We both smile.

I place one of my hands next to his head, and twist some of the dry, golden locks in my fingers.

"M-mail…" he whispers softly, as my fingers trail against his burn-free cheek.

I can't help myself.

My body bends down, and my lips catch his.

I know that I'm not gay.

Mostly likely not bisexual either.

But Mello has a special place in my heart.

Whether it's in love or friendship.

I can see myself spending the rest of my life with him.

I expect Mello to push away from me.

But he doesn't.

His lips press against mine as well.

It's a wonderful feeling.

I'm pretty sure, that this isn't just friendship anymore.

I'm pretty sure…

That I love him.


	2. If I just lay here

**Omg, everyone…sorry this took so long. It's REALLY hard to write. I'm really writing this from the bottom of my heart. I'm writing this how I'm sure Matt felt. It's hard. I'm more into writing as Mello. I know his character better. This is a stretch for me. Anyways, again, another reason for lateness. I was in the hospital. I was diagnosed with chronic appendicitis, and I was in the hospital in case my appendix needed to be removed. I'm all better now, and I have this for you guys! 8D Enjoy!**

"Mello…" I said to him as we wandered the empty streets of Los Angeles at night. "Hey…Mello."

He looked at me, as we passed under a street light. The year was 2005. It was January 21st. It was warm compared to England in January. His eyes were shining brightly under the light.

"What, Matt?" he asked me, as our feet tapped lightly against the sidewalk.

"Weren't there murders here a few years ago?" Mello snorted and began to laugh.

"There're always murders in LA." He laughed. I shook my head, and had to brush my hair from my face.

"No, one's that L was involved in." I restated. Mello and I stopped walking. I checked my watch. It was past eleven. We needed to find somewhere to go tonight.

"Yeah…" Mello said almost dramatically. "The killer went to Wammy House."

"Really?" I asked inquisitively. Mello nodded, assuring me of my answer.

"B." he said. "He was supposed to succeed L. He came way before me and Near." Mello paused. "If he and A didn't die…I wouldn't even be number two." His tone grew more and more solemn. "I'd be forth. Freakin' forth." I said nothing to him and let him go on. "B thought he was better than L. But he wasn't."

I still said nothing.

"He challenged L, the dumb ass. He tried making an unsolvable case but it was solved. L won." Mello's hands ball up into fists. "L won!" He began to scream it. He had no consideration for the time. "You hear that, LA!" he shouted, running out into the middle of the street. There were no cars coming, so he didn't have to worry. "L WON! L BEAT B, GOT IT!"

Mello was running around, down the streets, screaming at the city for being stupid. Cursing B for what he had done. Swearing to the gods that he'll get them back.

"I HATE YOU." He screamed loudly. Mello fell to his knees. "I HATE YOU KIRA!" He was staring down at the ground, small stains of liquid appeared on the ground beneath him. Mello was crying.

For the first time…I had seen Mello truly upset.

I couldn't blame him.

L was an idol to us all.

And Kira took him away.

He didn't even consider how many people he hurt by doing so.

He crushed the dreams of hundreds of orphans.

He was our idol.

And Kira took him away.

"I miss him too." I said to Mello, approaching him and crouching down at his side. I placed a hand on his back. "But it can't be helped, Mello."

Mello raised an arm to his face and started to wipe away the tears.

"I'll be strong." He said. "I'll be strong for L. And for everyone at Wammy House." He begins to stand again. He was still crying.

"Be strong for me." I said, coming behind him, wrapping my arms around my friend, holding him close. "Right now, it's just you and me."

"_I…don't quite know…_" he said, staring down at the pavement, his hands in tight fists. Tears, shining brilliantly began dripping down his face and staining the road. His body shook a bit. I don't know if it was from fear, being so close to someone, or from something else. But Mello was shaking, and I was the only one there to comfort him. "_How to say…how I feel."_

"I need you." I said to him sternly. "All that matters is that it's you and me, and we're still kids. We're scared. We're alone." I smiled at him, and held him close to me. "And well…I need you."

Mello shook his head about, his blonde hair flying about wildly. He seemed as if he was going to break away from me, but I kept my arms around him, waiting for my friend to let out his frustrations. He was bawling his eyes out at this point, and his arms were covering his eyes, letting the tears flow between the cracks and moistening his hands.

"_Those three words…are said too much…they're not enough_." He said sadly. It was true. I told him that I needed him far too much…But, I had this feeling…

Even though he needed more than just me…

That he just needed to hear that from someone.

That someone thought he was number one.

Mello's burns are healing. And quite well. There's no chance in hell that his face will ever be scar free though. It's a large, shaded mess of tan on ivory flesh. It's a good look for him, but, I'd still rather him without it.

I almost want to take him to a private cosmetic surgeon and telling them to make Mello beautiful again.

I wonder what he looked like all grown up without the scar.

We had spent so much time apart. I never got to finish seeing him become an adult.

That's right. We were adults now.

We made it.

Mello's lying on the couch in one of his more comfortable outfits. It's a miracle to me how he was able to retrieve clothes of his after blowing up his place. I think he stashed them somewhere else. He's leaning on his elbow and a pillow, watching the news.

A chocolate bar is stupidly hanging out of his mouth. How the hell does he avoid getting acne?

I pace across the room and look down at Mello from over the couch. He glances up at me with those immaculate, aqua eyes. He almost smiles at me.

Things haven't been the same since I kissed him.

If it wasn't for the damn scar…

I would have kept him like that. I would have kept him in my arms, and stripped us down and yanked him under the covers, and made him mine.

And this time it would have been for good.

But he had pushed away, the pain was too much for him. Otherwise…

If it wasn't for that damn burn…

I would have a lover.

I blame Kira. If it wasn't for Kira, none of this would have happened.

I only chase Kira for Mello.

"Matt? Hello, Earth to Matt" I hear Mello say suddenly. He had shifted his position on the couch and was looking directly up at me. He's seated like a middle school girl, blabbering to her friends about boys and dating. Somehow it suits him.

Even with the scar.

"Sorry." I say to him, leaning on the couch, and fishing in my pockets for a pack of cigarettes. I stare into the carton, it's entirely empty. Lovely. "Was thinking…"

"About what?" Mello asks. His curiosity can be irritating.

But I can't help but love it.

He wouldn't be the same without it.

"Things." I say plainly, pulling a leg up from the floor and stepping over the back of the couch. I almost pull a muscle.

But I get more and more flexible each day.

I bring the rest of my body over the couch and sit down on it. The material around me sinks into itself, sighing as I do too. Mello falls back on his side of the couch.

"What things?" he asks. I roll my eyes at him, and stare at his rippled, deformed flesh. He's lost so much beauty.

"Things." I say again. Mello's face distorts, growing ugly as each muscle twists. If that scar wasn't bad enough…his sadness makes it worse.

I want Mello to be beautiful.

He lays out, arms draped over the edge of the piece of furniture. Mello raises a leg and kicks me roughly in the arm. I swear. Mello's still wearing his boots, and refuses to take them off.

I think he's self conscious about his feet.

He's self conscious about his feet…but not that horrible intrusion of burnt flesh upon his face.

He's wonderful.

"Don't avoid it, Matt." He snaps, his eyes have lost their beauty too when he frowns. Please Mello…smile. For me?

"Fine." I snort, looking from him. "I was thinking about you." There's silence between us for a moment, but I hear Mello begin to laugh.

"You embarrassed about that?" he snorts, sitting up a bit, adjusting his position so he has a glimpse of my face.

My cheeks are like fire.

Soon they'll be just as burnt as Mello.

We can be unattractive together.

I don't say anything to him, but I feel his hand under my chin. He's not wearing his gloves around me.

I don't think he wants to.

His fingers cup around my chin, and turn me towards him.

The burn on my cheeks has already begun.

"Don't be." He says, as our eyes stay connected for a moment.

This time…

Mello makes a move.

His head tilts to the side.

His eyes shut slowly.

Almost like curtains.

His lips press against mine.

A slight gap is between them.

He's hoping for a response.

His lower lip pulsates.

And my lips press back.

My eyes are like butterfly wings.

One moment they're wide open.

The next they've fluttered shut.

My hand crawls across the couch.

Mello's hand drops from my chin.

It lands on my hand.

And it squeezes mine tightly.

I begin to press myself towards him, lowering us both down on the couch.

Christ, Mello…

Please…

"_If I lay here…" _I say to him, separating us for a brief moment. "_If I just lay here…would you lie with me…and just forget the world_?"

Mello nods slightly. No words could describe the feeling between us right now.

But our lips connect once more. This time, it's not hesitant and nervous. This time…it has real confirmation. And acceptance.

Please Mello…

My other hand manifests itself and presses against his burnt cheek. Mello winces. It's still painful for him.

Let me in. Let me love you.

I brush the hair from his face, caressing each inch of him. He's the most amazing person…

His flesh may be ugly…

But his spirit is too beautiful for words.


	3. Would you lie with me

**Hey everyone, got another chapter of this done. I've having a lot of fun with it. I've had so much of it planned for such a long time. I'm glad I've been able to write it. Thanks so much to everyone for supporting this. Please…if this story is touching…Please tell me. Don't just say "How sad!" but why. I love knowing why. Thanks so much! Enjoy!**

"Mello!" someone screamed at us. "Matt! Get back here this instant!" We were both running as far as we could from Wammy House. We had to have been young. Much younger than we ever could be to run away. We were only playing around.

We didn't shout anything back, but we keep on running. Far, out into the woods. This way, it could only be the two of us. On our own. That's all we wanted. We were two kids, who just wanted our freedom and independence. What else could a kid ask for? Normal kids would ask for toys, candy and no school. We ask for freedom to just be kids. We were orphans and our friends were all we had.

"No way!" Mello said to me as we ran into the woods. Of course we were going to go back later. We just wanted to go on an adventure.

This was a time before we had the pressure of being L's successor. We had always been trained to be the best we could, and now, we were just waiting around for the next step. Why not have some fun while we were at it?

"_Forget what we're told!_" Mello shouted. We were children. We needed freedom. "_Before we get too old!_" He ran at me, tackling me to the ground.

Both of us were laughing as Mello wrestled with me in a mixture of dead leaves and pine needles, as well as dirt and rocks. We were just kids.

"_Show me a garden that's bursting into life_."

That was what we needed. Freedom to be kids. To live our lives. To have fun.

Before we grew up.

We needed that childhood before we became adults.

And we never got it.

---

Mello wasn't a normal orphan. Most of us had been brought to Wammy House because we had lost our parents somehow. Mello was different. His parents were alive. He knew his mother. His father…had raped her.

But it wasn't a case of his mother not wanting him…

It was more of a case, of her leaving him at Wammy House for a year when he was an infant.

She'd be back in a year and take him home. Then she would have the money. Then she'd be able to raise her son. Just one year in an orphanage…Mello would never remember it.

After a year, she came back, she said:

"Just one more year…it's hard finding work."

She then left Mello again.

She returned when Mello was turning two. This was an age where he would begin to retain memories.

"One more year." She said. "I promise!"

Roger never objected.

And Mello stayed.

His mother came every year. Each time…She'd say the same thing "Just one more year…"

But when Mello was six…

She stopped coming.

Mello and I had become friends by this time. He saw me as family.

We both had been there since birth, and we both relied on one another.

And then…

She came back.

Her name was Patricia Mitchellson now.

Not Patricia Keehl.

"Mello." Roger said, peering into Mello's room as both of us played a game of Battleship. I was losing…Badly. But I always let him win. Every board game we played, I would let him win. None of this number two stuff when it was just me and him. I was number two with him. He was number one.

We both glanced up. Mello tilted his head in interest. We were eleven years old at the time. We were so young and naïve….Our innocence couldn't be helped.

"What is it, Roger?" he asked. The old man smiled warmly at us. We all knew Roger wasn't fond of kids, but he found something nice about the one's at Wammy House. We were all exceptionally smart and we couldn't really help but be likable for the most part.

"You have a visitor." He said. Mello's eyes lit up. He knew exactly who it was.

He jumped up, nearly tripping on the Battleship game. The excitement had rushed inside of him, and built up like an oncoming orgasm. Mello quickly ran through the room and bolted out of the room in a blur.

I couldn't help but follow him.

I followed Mello into the main entrance room. It consisted of a few tables, and several chairs around them. To the far side of the room was her.

She was a very young woman, no older than twenty-five. She must have had Mello at a young age. She had golden, bright blonde hair that could be spotted from across the room. It was magnificent, and I finally knew where Mello got it.

Mello was smiling. I had never seen him so happy.

"MOMMA!" he screamed, running across the room, his feet making slight smacking sounds as they hit the floor. The woman looked up and saw Mello running at her.

I walked towards them, getting a better look at her face…

She didn't look happy.

She was disappointed.

Mello was running at her with his arms wide open, expecting her to stand up, run towards him and scoop him up into her arms like a mother should…

But she didn't.

Mello noticed this too.

He came up to her, as did I, and I noticed the look in her eyes.

I couldn't tell if she was hurt or angry.

She looked at Mello with intent, before glancing at me.

"I knew your hair would darken." She said, placing her hand on my head.

She couldn't recognize your own son.

"That's Matt—I mean…Mail." Mello says to her. "_I'm_ your son."

I could see the pain in his eyes.

"Oh!" she said, faking sympathy. "Martin, you've grown."

I could almost hear Mello's heart breaking.

"My name's Mihael, _mom_."

Mello had never referred to her as 'mom'. For as long as I had known him.

"No it isn't." she said. "I'm your mother, I named you Martin."

Mello shook his head. "No. My name is Mihael."

She waved him off, and changed the subject.

"How are things?" she asked.

"Good." Mello said. I could tell he was angry. "Mom…Why'd you come here?"

She looked away from us both, I could see that she was hurt.

"I'm not coming back." She said to us simply before rising from her seat.

Mello smiled brightly. "Does that mean I get to come home now?!" he asked. "C-Can Mail come too? We could have the best family! I can't wait mom! We're gon-"

She crouched down, covering Mello's mouth.

"You're not coming with me."

And she said nothing more and pushed around us and headed for the exit.

"Mom?!" Mello shouted, as the doors opened, and light filled the room. He ran towards his mother and slipped around the closing door. I chased after him.

"Mello! Stop!" I shouted, as I chased my friend, chasing his mother.

She looks back at him, and her personality has changed entirely.

"Get back in there you little shit!" she snapped as Mello caught up with her. He froze immediately. "I don't fucking want you!" I came up close behind Mello, watching as this woman who was his mother insulted him. "You're the spitting image of the bastard who made you, and you'll end up just like him!"

Mello was shaking his head in disbelief.

"I have a fucking family, kid." She hissed at him. "I have a husband and two children, who _love me_. And I love them!" She bent down, grabbing the fabric around Mello's neck, nearly choking him. "And I will _never_ love a little shit like you."

She had practically lifted Mello from his feet, and threw him on to the ground before walking away from us. A car pulled into the main gates and a door was opened for her. We could see inside…there was a man and two small children.

She wasn't lying.

She entered the car, and it pulled out.

Mello stood up, staring out in the distance, tears flowing down his face.

"MOMMA!" he screamed, bolting through the main yard of Wammy House. "MOMMA COME BACK!" he continued.

Strange how a broken heart can pump you with adrenaline.

He was sprinting through the yard after the car.

I could almost hear his mother laugh at him.

"PLEASE DON'T GO, MOMMA!" Mello screamed, trying to chase the car ahead of him. "I NEED YOU, MOMMA!"

I ran up behind him.

A broken heart wasn't powering my adrenaline…

But it was the sympathy for my friend.

"MELLO!" I snapped coming up behind him as the car drove out of sight. He turned to me, tears rolling down his cheeks.

I couldn't help myself, and I rose a fist, and slammed it into his face, knocking my friend to the ground.

"Listen to yourself!" I snapped. "Your mother just told you she didn't want you! She told you in a series of words that she hated you! Mello…Mihael! _She doesn't want you_!" I almost wanted to punch him again. "And you hopeless ran after her like she didn't mean it!"

Mello stared up at me dumbly, but his eyes shut, and tears poured from them. His eyes were red and puffy. He knew that.

"_Let's waste time!" _I shouted at him angrily. "_Chasing cars around our heads_!" I motioned a hand around my head indicating insanity. "Your mother doesn't want you, Mihael!"

I closed my eyes and fell to my knees, joining my friend. "But I do…" I say, covering my eyes with my hands as the waterworks begin for me as well.

Mello leaned towards me, his arms enclosed around my shoulders, and mine captured his as well. We were two kids…who wanted nothing more than to be happy…in tears at the only place that ever made us happy…with the only person who ever made us smile.

"_I need your grace…_" Mello sobbed into my shoulder. "_To remind me to find my own…_"

My hand runs along Mello's back…and I hold him tightly.

"I need you." I said.

"I need you too." He said back.

I'll always be here for you.

"_If I lay here…_" Mello moans as I thrust into him. "_If I just lay here…Would you lie with me…and just forget the world?_"

Regardless of the scar….

Mello screams my given name.

"_Mail_!" he screams, his back arching, his nails digging into the back of my neck. He's sweating like a fiend. So am I. It's such a wonderful feeling.

Mello is still beautiful to me.

At least on the inside.

Our mouths connect. I can feel his heartbeat in every gasp of our kiss.

My arms snake around his back, holding him up slightly to keep him from straining his back. His nails loosen and his arms are embracing me around the neck.

"_Forget what we're told…" _I gasp into his ear after breaking the kiss. "_Before we get too old…_"

Mello moans, smiling. He remembers that day where we were wrestling in the woods. "_Show me a garden that's bursting into life._"

I'll show you anything Mello.

My life is yours.

And your life is mine.

I'd be nothing without you.

Thank you, Mihael.

I love you.


	4. And just forget the world?

"M-mello…" my voice says hoarsely as I struggle to hold his body up. We're both situated on the couch, doing something I could never imagine myself doing. We're stark naked, sweating…and we're…

No, we're not fucking.

We're not screwing.

Or having sex.

Or Humping, Grinding, Doing the Nasty, Having Intercourse, or Doing It.

We're making love.

I never thought something like this would happen. Mello is my best friend. He always has been, and he always will be. Through everything, through thick and thin, I'll always be here for him. To think we'd be lying with one another on this filthy, shitty couch…and I'd have Mello propped on my lap, thrusting deep inside of him.

Mello's arms are wrapped tightly around my back, his head is tilted down, almost resting on my shoulder, and he's screaming loudly. But it's not of anger, or pain, or hatred…It's of pure, absolute…adoration.

"M-mail…" he gasps, lifting his head, so our eyes meet. They're both teary from the pressure between us. His eyes are like crystals. They might be watery, but it's so clear, it's like looking into the Fountain of Youth. It's so clear, so gorgeous. I want to stay like this forever.

"Y-yeah…?" I reply, gyrating my hips slightly, hearing my friend moan gently as I press inside of him a bit more. He smiles at me brilliantly. It's so…innocent. Almost virginal. It occurs to me that I could be his first time.

He's not mine.

I wish he was. I'd give anything to go back in time to fix things so Mello and I could share this embrace earlier.

Anything but him.

"I'm ready." He says almost childishly. He sounded almost like a bride on her honeymoon, confessing to her new husband she was ready for him to make a woman of her. I knew at this moment.

Mello was a virgin.

It felt amazing…taking such a permanent sensation from someone…I was his first. Did he save himself for me? I couldn't help but wonder.

"R-ready huh?" I ask, leaning up against him, our chests rubbing together. His heart is pounding. He has to be a virgin. Mello smiles and nods. "Did you save yourself to me?" I couldn't help it. The words slipped from me so naturally.

And so did Mello's response.

"Yes." Mello says quickly, his smile somewhere between embarrassment and shamelessness. "I couldn't dream…" Mello looks away from me, the smile was more towards embarrassment. He was a big, bad mafia boss…who was a virgin. It's one of the oddest predicaments you could ever hear. But…

He was dedicated to me.

"I couldn't dream…" he says again. "Of anyone but you…taking it from me." He's humiliated.

But I don't want him to be.

I cup Mello's chin in my hand and turn him towards me. I smile at him, and manage to get a smile from him as well.

It's nothing spectacular. No big, flashing grin. No teeth. No closed eyes. No hesitating. It's just a simple smirk, his eyes are just as clear as before.

But finally…

Even with that hideous scar.

He's beautiful again.

I lean into Mello, smiling, beginning to laugh. "Then let's make this memorable." I whisper into his ear, kissing his cheek gently. "For both of us."

Our bodies lay entangled on the couch, we're sweating, but we're freezing, a blanket half yanked over our bodies. Mello is laying across my chest, his hands close to my collar bone. His fingers are tracing the outline of my neck lightly, it tickles but not enough to laugh, but closer to the point where I could fall asleep.

"Matt." Mello says, trying to speak. His voice croaks a little. We haven't spoken since we both came, a good half hour ago. In the time since then, the sun outside had set, and the only light in the room came from the auxiliary channel I had left on the television. I smile slightly at the sound of his scratchy voice.

"Yeah?" I say, my voice croaking slightly as well.

"…What did we just do?" he asks. I nearly choke, I nearly laugh…I don't know what it was, but I had to take a deep breath.

"We…" I couldn't find the right words. "Engaged in homosexual intercourse?" I muttered. My eyes suddenly open wide. "Mello…D-Does this mean…Does this mean I'm gay!?"

Mello laughs and his body twists around so we're lying on our sides, facing one another. The couch isn't nearly big enough for this. But…I've never been so comfortable in my life. "Of course not." He assures me. "It was only once right?" I nod, and Mello leans up and kisses me softly. "First time with the same sex, isn't a guarantee you're gay."

I smirk a bit, rubbing the back of my head. "Then…does this make me bi?" I ask.

Mello laughs, wrapping his arms around my shoulder, pulling me close so he's pressing into the fabric and sponge-like cushioning of the back of the couch. "Depends on what you make of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask quizzically, leaning my head down so our foreheads are touching.

"Do you want to be with me?" Mello asks. His tone is serious, whole-hearted and sincere. I feel my cheeks turn to fire. I open my mouth to speak.

Do I?

Do I really love Mello? Or…

Or is this just because I'm scared of losing my friend again.

No.

I do.

I really do love him.

I start to answer, but Mello removes an arm from around my neck and places his hand over my mouth. "Because I want to be with you." Mello's body stretches out, and his hand releases itself from over my mouth and becomes replaced with his lips.

It's the warmest, most sensational kiss I've ever felt. I want to say more to him. I want to say to him. 'Yes Mihael. I love you. I want to be with you forever.' But I can't.

Mello pulls from me and says them instead. "Yes, Mail. I love you. I want to be with you forever." He kisses me quickly once again, but now, there's so much more to it. It's not erotic, or scandalous or raunchy. It's passionate and loving. "_All that I am._" He says, looking me directly in the eyes. "_All that I ever was. Is here in your perfect eyes…they're all I can see_."

And that was all I needed to hear.

And my heart was his.

There was something about Mello, that was so private, it took him until we were starving on the streets in the United-fucking-States, to actually come out and tell me. It wasn't something along the lines of him having super powers, or being famous somewhere. It was something that…if the timing was just a little different…His…no, _our_ lives would be worlds different.

It was something so small…

But so dramatic.

That he had to keep it hidden inside.

Mello knew his father.

Better than I had thought.

I was with him when he and his father spoke for the first time.

But I thought it was just the one time.

His father wasn't some serial rapist like his mother had sworn, but more along the lines of a man, slightly older than Mello's mother, who happened to be dating her when she was fourteen.

He was much older at the time, being about twenty or so, but this sort of thing happens a lot.

After Mello's mother had abandoned him for the final time at Wammy House, Mello was determined to find out about his father. He didn't care if his father was a rapist, a murderer, a hick or anything. Mello wanted to know about his father. It was the only thing he could do now. He was so sick of not knowing things, and he needed to take action and dig up information on his father.

Donovan Keehl.

Why Mello's mother bothered to give him the same last name as the man who 'raped' her, who knew.

Mello thought it was because his mother was a gold digger, and had planned to kill his father.

After all, his father was somewhat of a…

Oh what's the word?

Millionaire?

When Mello was about twelve years old, he began his research. This began the first night of his most sleepless year. He would get less than four hours of sleep each night, and spend all his free time, sneaking into the records, trying to find out about his father, Donovan Keehl.

That was all he knew at the time. He had begged Roger for his fathers name, and reluctantly, the elderly man, with the dislike of children gave in and said to him:

"Mello." His voice was stern by exasperated. "Your father's name is Donovan Keehl…And I will never understand what he saw in your mother."

And that was all Mello needed, to know that his father hadn't abandoned him like his bitch of a mother had.

After months, Mello had discovered a folder hidden away in the files of Roger's record hall. It was about a court date, back in early 1989. It was Donovan Keehl Vs. Patricia Mitchellson. The case? Mitchellson was suing Keehl for every dime he had for rape. Not very realistic.

Not much was listed about the case. Just that Donovan Keehl was being charged with rape by his ex girlfriend, a fourteen year old girl by the name of Patricia Mitchellson. No pictures were given, but there was a spare bit of information Mello based his ideas on. His father was wrongfully accused, that had to be it.

And he would ask him.

Most would be curious, how would a twelve year old boy, as his father whom he has never met, if he was wrongfully accused of rape?

It was simpler than the secret Mello harbored.

Near the bottom of the page, was the phone number of the lawyer defending Donovan Keehl. That was all Mello had to do. He would call this number, speak with the attorney, and tell him that he was the bastard son of a millionaire.

To many it seemed like a prank.

But I was with Mello when he called.

No one, not even over the phone, could have thought Mello was faking tears.

They were pure, saddened moans of pain.

I didn't even cry that much when my own mom died.

And so, this lawyer, after much debate, forfeited over Donovan Keehl's contact information.

And thus, lead to the most frightening phone call Mello had ever made.

I sat with him in Rogers office. Mello had let the old man know that he had been trying to contact his father by now, and had Rogers full permission to use the phone for this. We both sat on the floor, my hand wrapped around Mello's, squeezing it tightly for comfort.

And he punched in the numbers. It was an American number, but we knew not where exactly his father was. We could ask when he picked up.

We both listened in as the phone began to ring. It was no different than the rings around here, but yet…it was so foreboding.

There was a click.

"_Hello_, _Keehl residence. This is Elaine, how may I take this call_?"

We were silent. Mello swallowed hard, and nearly hung up.

"_Hello? Is anyone there_?" she asked.

"Y-yes." Mello choked. "Uh…M-may I speak to D-Donovan K-k-keehl?"

The woman pulled from the phone and started speaking Spanish to someone. At least, it sounded like Spanish. Something foreign. "_May I ask who's calling_?" she asked us.

We were silent again, and I almost felt the need to speak for Mello. However, my friend decided to be brave. "I-it might s-seem weird, ma'am…" Mello began, his hands shaking as he held the phone. "B-but…I'm h-his s-s-s-son."

"_Senor Donovan tiene un hijo?!" _The woman screamed. I knew by hearing this…it was something along the lines of them being entirely shocked.

"P-please." Mello said. "I-I'm not lying. I'm his son."

"_What is your name?"_ the woman said into the phone.

"Mel—I mean, Mihael Keehl." Mello said softly, I squeezed his hand tightly, and smiled at him.

"_It's not possible." _The woman said to Mello, her tone mocking and rude. "_Sr. Donovan had to get a vasectomy after he was wrongfully accused of raping a woman—"_

"That's the point!" Mello said. "That woman that he _supposedly_ raped, is my mother! Patricia Mitchellson!"

The woman pulled from the phone and began screaming in Spanish again. "Please?" Mello begged, almost pleadingly than he needed to be. "I just need to speak with him. To tell him I'm his son—"

"_What year were you born? What is your birthday?_" the woman Elaine said, speaking into the phone.

"Uh…December nineteenth, 1989." Mello said nervously. A man's voice became apparent.

"_The age would be correct…_" the man said. "_Let me speak with him_."

There was entire silence for a moment, then…then came the voice of a slightly gruff but dismal voice.

"_Is this Mihael Keehl_?" he said into the phone. Mello and I said nothing.

"Y-yes…" Mello choked. I saw the tears beginning to form.

"_You_ _claim you're the bastard son of the bitch who sued me?_" he asked almost disappointingly.

Mello nodded but said nothing. "Unfortunately." Came his response after a few minutes.

The man was quiet as well. But then…then there was a loud, hearty laugh.

And Mello smiled.

"_Where are you_?" he asked. "_Still with that vile woman--?"_

"She abandoned me." Mello interrupted. "She brought me to this orphanage I'm in. She came a lot to see me…but…last year. She told me…she didn't want me. And…she left." Though Mello was finally smiling, he was crying.

"_I'll get you out of there."_ Mello's father said suddenly. "_She was horrible then, she's horrible now. If you are truly my son…_" There was the sound of optimism in his voice. "_Which I'm rather sure you most likely are…I will work to get you out of there._."

Mello's face lit up.

"_Now…_" he said to Mello. _"Tell me, what's your life like_?"

I didn't know this, but after this one time, Mello began to call his father on a regular basis. His personality changed slightly…

Until…

"Matt…" he said to me, late one night after one of his phone calls with his father. One I was aware about.

"Yeah?" I asked, putting my Gameboy down. I had received it as an early Christmas present from Linda, who I was dating somewhat at the time.

"H-he's gone…" Mello was looking at me directly in the eyes. The tears were flowing like the day his bitch of a mother left him here.

"Who?" I asked, sitting up right.

"M-my dad." Mello sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Th-the adoption papers were about to be sent out too…"

"What happened?" I asked again, standing now to see what was wrong with Mello.

"H-he was shot." Mello said, looking at me with this sorrowful eyes. How I hated to see him cry. "Someone murdered him…H-his wife told me on the phone."

"Oh god, Mello…" I began to put my arms around him, prepared to hug him tightly, but for the first time, as a child, Mello pushed me away.

"No…" he sat on my bed, shaking his head, burying his face in his hands. "H-he was going to adopt you too…"

"Me?" I asked, sitting next to him. "Why?"

"Because he realized how close we are." Mello choked, sobbing. His body tilted to the side, his head resting on my shoulder.

We were fourteen now, an age where we desperately needed a parental figure in our life. But…it didn't help.

"I-I really am an orphan now." He sobbed, his tears dripping on to my shirt. I could have sworn it was puberty…but boys don't cry.

"M-mello…" I said, placing my hand on his head, stroking his hand gently to comfort him.

"_I don't know where…_" Mello sobbed. "_Confused about how as well_…" I wrapped my arms tightly around Mello, and held my friend close. He needed me now.

More than ever.

"Mello…" I whispered gently. "No matter what…_Just know that things will never change for us at all. _Even if we're orphans forever. I'll always be here."

And it's still like that.

Through everything, Mello.

I'm here.

The date is January twenty-fifth, 2010. Mello's lying on the floor, the furniture has all been pushed away, and he's outspread, like he's being crucified. In his lips, is a piece of paper, twisted up tightly and smoldering.

"Mello?" I asked, leaning over him and staring down at him. His eyes are glassy and his expression is blissful. "You high?"

My friend nods at me, smiling and pinches the joint between his fingers and holds it up to me. "_If I lay here? If I just lay here? Would you lie with me--_?"

"_And just forget the world_?" I ask, smiling at Mello, taking the joint from him, and press it between my lips, inhaling and taking in the aroma of the illegal substance. I smile at Mello, choking slightly as I exhale the smoke. "Of course I will."

I slide down on to the floor, and stare at the ceiling with Mello before passing him the joint again. "Let's remember the good times, Matt." He says, turning and smiling at me.

I turn and face him, taking in how beautiful he is now that he's spilled his heart to me. I could care less about that scar now. "And the bad times." I add.

"Fuck it." Mello laughs. He doesn't stop. His laughing continues and echoes through the apartment. It's either that he truly is happy, or the pot's doing this to him. "Let's just remember it all." His body shifts and his lips reach for mine. I reach out and place my fingers over them, snatching the joint away from him.

"Later." I say, taking a drag of the joint, inhaling it deep within my lungs. I can feel the cancer starting. "Let's just remember one thing, Mihael."

I'm getting light headed. "What's that, Mail?" Mello purrs.

"Let's remember…us." He smiles brightly at me, and pushes my fingers from my lips. His body gets closer to mine, and our hands overlap, our fingers laced tightly.

Mello takes the joint and takes another hit. "Sounds like a plan. Let's look back on our memories." He says, smiling at me. "And tomorrow…we can make even more."

If only we had that chance.

If only we had that chance…

We could have made some wonderful memories.

Thanks Mello.

You gave me something great…

An amazing life.


End file.
